Not so gracefully

This story first appeared in the September 23 issue of The Trussville Tribune…

Not so long ago, I was young. Oh, I know that compared to some people, I’m still young. But I’m a whole lot older than I used to be, and I’m beginning to see it, act it and feel it. Here are some of the symptoms I’m experiencing…

· Wearing reading glasses has gotten to be such a habit that I don’t even notice I’m wearing them. When I bought my first pair a few years ago, I thought I’d never get used to them. Furthermore, I was aggravated to pieces that the darn things were even necessary. Now I don’t even try to read a large print book without them, a sure indication that my ugly little spectacles have become a kind of security blanket. But I have to say being able to easily see what I’m reading beats the heck out of squinting and clutching a book at arm’s length.

· As far as music, I don’t know any Beyonce songs, and I don’t care that I don’t know any Beyonce songs. In my book, she’s got a long way to go before she’ll meet the standard set by the likes of James Taylor, Karen Carpenter (God rest her soul) or The Captain and Tennille. By the way, who is this Jay-Z person Beyonce is married to? Am I supposed to know him? And why don’t either of them have last names?

· Twenty-five years ago, my style motto was “Beauty before comfort.” It’s now the other way around. These days, I consider push-up bras and heels any higher than an inch-and-a-half akin to medieval torture devices. And who wants to wear tight jeans when a pair of forgiving elastic-waist pants will serve the purpose just as well? Until I’m dressing to meet the Queen (surely it’ll be my turn one day), I’ll be choosing comfort.

· Black and white TV is my visual comfort food. I’ll take “I Love Lucy” or “The Addams Family” over “Hannah Montana” or that Steve Urkel show any day. Watching the old stuff reminds me of simpler times, back when I didn’t have to pay my own bills, and off-days meant bicycles and roller skates, not laundry and vacuuming.

· I sit around the dinner table with friends discussing what antacid works best after eating a meal of spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread. We then compare cholesterol and blood pressure levels, trade recipes for easy low-fat desserts and talk about who’s recently had a knee replacement and who could probably use one. What really blows my mind is when my contemporaries start bringing out pictures of the grandkids and passing them around the table. Aren’t grandparents supposed to be older than we are?

· I go to bed early – real early. In college, I could stay out ‘til midnight and make it to class the next morning by 8:00 a.m. – or a few minutes after, at least – then keep going ‘til midnight again. Nowadays, I can hardly wait until 9:00 p.m. to hunker down with a book and try to stay awake long enough to read for an hour or so before falling asleep. I do, however, wake up earlier than I used to – 6:00 a.m. is what I now consider “sleeping late.” So surely it all evens out somehow.

I had one other point to make, but I can’t remember what it is… Oh, that’s it – the short-term memory thing. As time goes by, I have less and less of it at my disposal. But that might not be all bad. I regularly make a fool of myself in one way or another, and forgetting stuff like that is okay with me.

And on that note, I’ll close. Writing about this aging business is getting a little depressing, to tell the truth. Besides, I’ve got to get up from here and head out on some errands. Now if I can just remember where I put the car keys…